Dovahkiin The uprising
by dksolo
Summary: After a tragic event drives l'grana Harroc and his family out from his village, he learns that after a series of events, he is gifted in someway. Harroc, on his journey to Windhelm finds a long lost dwemer ruin, with a small clan of Dwarves living underground, they teach him of the dragonborn, and that he has all the characteristics of Dovahkiin. The news will change his life.
1. Chapter 1 - Bandits

Chapter 1 – The bandits.

Mountain peaks soar above the clouds, towering over the individual Nord, journeying though the province of Hjarlmarsh, making them look insignificant in compared to the cold harsh land of Skyrim. Snow, white as can be, surrounded, so that an individual saw but only white mist blowing in the bitter cold blizzard. The white out so strong, you can barely see the path leading to the safe haven of Windhelm, the safe haven for the native Nord, and guarded by the mighty Ulfric Stormcloak.

Three brave Nords venture through the blizzard, a mother a father and a teenage boy, forced out of their village north east of Whiterun, due to a combined force of necromancers and bandits, plundering, massacring and raping the civilians of mjorskrith like savage, wild dogs.

"Damn filth", cried the father, "they took everything, my cattle, my crops, everything", he continued.

The mother replied in a soft light hearted tone, "at least we still have our lives skjorl, and remember, Talos avenges those who have been victims of evil."

The young man cried "If Talos guides us, why did he let that happen to us father?", the boy sobbed.  
Skjorl replied, "Harroc, let me tell you something, everything happens for a reason, Talos only permits these things to happen because he means too, because it was meant to be, it may not be in our favour, but I promise son, something good will happen, it is Talos' will, just you wait."

Suddenly, there appeared to be a small cave in a rock that looked quite inviting to stop and rest for the night.

"see son, I told you" Skjorl said with a chuckle.  
"thank Talos", cried the mother.  
"let's get a fire going".


	2. Chapter 2 - Hunter

Chapter 2 – Hunter

Inside a cosy little cave, the family dwelled, warming themselves by the fire and getting the cold out, the cave was deep enough, luckily shielding the Nords from the bitter frost, however their natural cold resistance kicked in so they weren't affected by any sort of frost bite.

"Son", called Skjorl, "Have I ever told you why you are call Harroc?"  
"Yes Father you tell me all the time", replied Harroc in a whiny tone however Harroc liked the story so appeared intensive especially in the situation they were all in.  
"When you were but 10 years of age you were a watcher, you watched almost all wild life with utmost focus, you were fascinated with how they lived, breathed, cared for one and other, fought but most of all, how they hunted. When you were only at the age of 12, you mastered the bow, crafted your own, from the native oak of Skyrim, and became a lethal marksman."

"With my help of course the mother replied"  
"Oh stop Haioa, we both know it was me who influenced him", Skjorl replied with a laugh,  
"Hey! Come on I wanna hear about my first hunt!" called Harroc anxiously,  
"Fine", sighed Skjorl, "It was mid spring, you were almost 13 years of age however your knowledge of animal behaviour and skill with the bow proved to me that you are indeed gifted by Talos himself, and so I took you hunting for local game. Out we set, the men out on an adventure, even if one is only 13. We ended up tracking a bear, its tracks were dangerously close to our village, so we set after it. Down the tracks we ended up at its cave, I told you to stay behind because you were not yet ready to take on such a magnificent beast, I was wrong I went into the cave, only to end up knocked to the floor by surprise of its giant claws, thankfully you heard my cry of pain and charged into the cave, miraculously you shot your arrow clean between its eyes, the arrow struck with such force, that the arrow head ended up going right through the skull, the bear dropped dead, a clean kill. It was at that moment I knew that there is something special about you, the way you can master something so quickly, endure so much and learn ways so quickly that you complete tasks with perfection."  
"So I am guessing that's how you got those scars on your chest, hey Pa" stated Harroc.  
"Yes my boy, and thus we named you, l'grana, Harroc, Fearless hunter."  
Haioa interrupted, "Yes and when you were 14 I used to tell you stories of dragons, oh how you loved them."  
"I still do!" cried Harroc happily,  
"You loved to hear the story of how the Dragonborn would rise up against all odds, and slay Alduin, the world eater."  
"Don't believe anything your mother says Harroc, I say you trust in the bow, and soon the sword."  
"And I say", stated the mother, "true bravery, comes from the heart, and not from the arm"  
"Yes mother," replied, Harroc.  
"Well," groaned Skjorl, "I think we have all had a rough day, let's get some sleep and pray to Talos that this damn blizzard clears up."


	3. Chapter 3 - Taken

Chapter 3 – Taken

Harroc opened his eyes, squinting at the glare coming straight to his face, but it was not the glare of the warm, cosy cave he was previously in but a dark room, blacker than night, stench so foul, his first breath of the little air in the room made him gag. His hands tied his ankles submerged in muddy, bloody water , he realised he was in a necromancers cave, troubled and terrified as he looked around the room and saw nothing but dead bodies, embalmed, savagely taken of their soul, Harroc saw nothing but empty space in the carcases.

However an aspect of his hand ties gave him hope, it was a knot his father taught him how to slip away from if ever tied, he knew he was in for a fight, however his minuscule feeling of hope was soon distinguished as he heard the cry of his mother,  
"NO PLEASE!", followed by a flash and a bright light, and the sound was no more, Harroc wanted to scream, however the pain was too great, it reduced him to silence, he knew that no more was his mother and all he could do now, was cry.

Suddenly out of the darkness an old man in black robes appeared, His face pail, decayed and troubled, his teeth rotted and his expression told a tale of torture and sorrow. He came before Harroc, he knew that this filth was a necromancer, the man was coming straight towards him, "I am going to do this the old fashion way", stated the necromancer.

Out of the sheath, he pulled a blood stained rusty iron dagger and drew it high. Harroc remembering his dads lesson, undid the knot in a few seconds and grabbed the old man's wrist that held the dagger, with his left hand, he knocked the man straight out with a hook to the temple, the blow was obviously too much for the frail old man to handle, he died before Harroc, he never felt such relief in his life, he took the dagger, cut his binds on his feet and sneaked off into the dark, blood infested cave. With revenge, firing in his eyes nothing could stop him. His only thought was, where is Dad?

As he ventured into the dark cave he heard, multiple screams of pain, and talk of necromancy, he almost felt like this was too much for his 17 year old body to take, but his search for his Father overthrew his emotions and kept him on the task. Suddenly he heard a yell that was familiar "Talos will strike thee down to oblivion, you scums of the world, reduced to nothing but dirt you live among!", Harroc knew that voice, it was his father, his morale uplifted, he set off in the direction of the loving voice, the legend he remembered of the Dragonborn his mother told him about, was kept dear in his heart, as he perused with bravery into the room of his father.

Suddenly a dim purple glow lit up the room, he saw five old men similar to the one who tried to kill him. The purple glow surrounded a silhouette that Harroc knew, it was his dad,

"REALEASE HIM NOW YOU FUCKING FILTH!" Harroc yelled in a boom that filled the entire cave, they turned around in an a slow eerie way, all of them smiling,  
"SON RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! LEAVE ME!", Cried the Skjorl

The Necromancers slowly advancing towards Harroc, forcing him in a corner, one of the Necromancers opened his palm that displayed a glowing fire spell, Harroc sliced at it cutting his hand clean off, the Necromancer screamed in pain and fell to the ground, the rest forced him down, there was nothing that Harroc could do now, but yell for help, and yell he did, out came a battle cry so deep, so full of bravery, so full of vengeance, that the force of the cry forced the four necromancers, to fly off, and hit the wall of the cave, 4 metres away.  
"DAD COME ON!" Harroc cried. His father in disbelief followed Harroc, the Necromancers quickly got up and ran in pursuit yelling "YOUR GOING TO DIE I WILL CUT OUT YOUR HEART AND EAT IT!"

Thankfully Skjorl saw an exit, "come on Harroc! This way!", he cried. Harroc followed .

As they ran towords the heavenly like sunlight of the exit of the cave an arrow flew, and tragically hit Skjorl in the back, non-fatal but enough to slow him down.

"NO!", Harroc cried, and grabbed his father dragging him towards the exit, as the Necromancers quickly approached, Harroc knew that there was little time he gathered all his strength for one last burst of energy, he dragged his father just outside the cave. Suddenly the leading Necromancer grabbed Harrocs leg and laughed, however Harroc had done too much to be dragged back into that disgusting cave, Harroc kicked the necromancer square in the scrotum, forcing the old man to fall to his knees and throw up, as the light was strong the necromancers gave up as the UV rays would burn their skin, Harrac took his father under his shoulder and ran to safety.

Finally, in the safety, of the forest, Harroc lay his father down to treat him. Unfortunatly his faher was not looking too good. Skjorl was barely breathing and had lost a lot of blood.

"Dad", whimpered Harroc,  
"Son, my L'grana Harroc, you have done well, and I have seen you blossom into a man, and that cry you did, has given me closure, You have the dragon blood, here take my sword, It was given to me by my father, wield it, and wield it with the heart of the dragon. I love you son." His last breath drew him to peace.  
"I will Pa," The events overthrew Harroc and reduced him to tears, as he cried so deeply his only thoughts were of his mother and his father, as he will never see them again.


End file.
